Emmett and the Bear
by TeammJake
Summary: I was about to die. I knew, as I looked into the cold, dark eyes locked with mine, that I was about to die— Emmett McCarty, a regular boy who's life is about to end. Then— 'and I knew I was dead. I saw an angel.' His life is about to start again.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so this is Emmett's story. This chapter is Rosalie finding him, and the change!

I rewrote this. I read the old first chapter, and it was absolutely atrocious. Hah(: So I rewrote it! I'll get around to rewriting the other two chapters, and writing beyond, but this first.

Please review! Comments, constructive criticism, and questions are much welcome!

Tell me if you like it! Thank you(:

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I was about to die.

I knew, as I looked in to the cold, dark eyes locked with mine, that I was about to die.

It was here, in the clearing, hidden in the shade of the trees, when I saw it first. I was fast; I tried to run, but it was faster. The huge grizzly bear loomed over me, growling. I shuffled as far back into the underbrush as I could; I couldn't move far, I was too hurt. The ground around me was stained with blood. _My blood,_ I thought in a daze.

I looked over at my gun; it was laying twenty feet away, behind the huge bear. I mentally slapped myself for not wearing the strap. This shouldn't have happened. I was hunting, like I had done hundreds of times before:

_I tightened my grip on the gun. The huge fallen tree was almost as big around as I was tall, and had to be over 100 feet long in each direction. I was going to have to climb over it. Looking for a branch I could use as a handhold; I found one, and took hold of it. I pulled myself up, huffing when my foot couldn't get a grip on the rough bark. I rolled over the branch, and landed on my back on the other side with a thud. "Ouch," I muttered, and stood up. _

_I shook it off, and continued through the trees. A twig snapped, and I turned, ready to shoot. A bunny hopped out of the trees. I laughed, and straightened up, gripping my gun. I pushed forward, until I came to a wall of trees and underbrush. Ducking through, I found myself in a large clearing.  
_

_I stepped forward, intrigued. It was there, in the middle of that fateful clearing, when I heard it .The wind picked up; the leaves rustled. And ever so softly, a low growl, barely audible. I spun around, only to find myself face to face with a giant grizzly. _

_Immediately, reacting on instinct, I reached for my gun, ready to shoot. But faster than I thought possible, the bear reached up; letting out a deafening roar, and slashed down. The gun flew out of my arm; I fell to the ground, clutching my bleeding arm. _

_The bear came at me again, pushing me to scramble farther to the edge. His paws came down, raking across my thigh. I heard screams; it took me a moment to realize they were mine . . . _

And that's where I was now. Laying on the cold, hard ground, bleeding to death. The bear stepped back; I took my chance, overcome with unknown energy. I scrambled to my feet, and started to run. It was but a few seconds that I had, and it wasn't enough. The grizzly caught my food and dragged me back. Its teeth broke through my skin; I felt warm blood seep through my socks.

It yanked me back, and my body dragged on the ground like a rag doll. I didn't cry out. I didn't have the energy to. The grizzly pushed me over with its paw, and left me lying like before.

He paused, and his head bent to mine, sniffing me cautiously. I felt what energy I had left draining slowly, ebbing away. I knew I was on the brink of death. But I forced my eyes open, and my mind clear; I was determined to hold on to my life.

He watched me fight the pain, but I could tell he was getting bored. If only he would tire and leave me alone. As much as I wanted to believe otherwise, I knew hope was futile. He was going to kill me. The realization fully dawned on me; I felt numb.

I knew I could do nothing to stop my approaching death. _My heartbeats are numbered_, I thought bitterly. I had to release the last holds on this mortal life.

So I closed my eyes, refusing to watch as the bear ripped out my throat.

In my head, everything was silent. I knew the bear was there, I could almost _feel_ his presence, but I had blocked out all sounds, preferring to die in peace. Then, a vicious snarl broke the silence, slicing it like a knife.

I wretched my eyes open; I looked toward the sound, and I knew I was dead.

I saw an angel.

She was beautiful. Soft, golden hair falling in torrents around a dazzling heart shaped face. Pale skin, with eyes like molten topaz. Light pink lips like rose buds.

She gazed at me with her concerned eyes; they were like liquid gold.

Her eyes flickered back to the bear; I saw them harden with anger. Her small lips pulled back in a snarl, and the vicious sound echoed through the clearing. My eyes closed involuntarily.

Terrible sounds filled the clearing; I could no longer block it out. I heard inhuman snarls and savage growls. An awful tearing noise and a menacing roar. The fight sounded for about a minute. I heard a desperate groan, and then silence.

The last ounce of strength I had slipped away, and I lost consciousness.

When I woke up, I was in the angel's arms, and she studied me. Her arms were hard, and cold. I shuddered, and her frown deepened. I looked at her face more closely; impossibly, she was more beautiful close up. Her eyes were soft, and deep; molten topaz. Under her eyes were soft purple shadows, they stood out in stark contrast to her ivory skin. Her hair was the color of pure gold. She absolutely glowed; it was as if a faint light was all around her. Her flawless lips pulled back in a smile: it was the sun shining after the storm. Then, her dazzling face lit up in bright determination, and I knew she could only be an angel. I couldn't feel much pain. Maybe I had gone to heaven. Either way, I just wanted to stay with her. _My angel, _I thought.

She moved, it felt like rocking. Then, we were flying. I was still in her arms, and the forest was flying by me. I gazed up to the angel's face. Her rosebud lips were pressed in a tight line, and her eyes were locked in front of us. She looked like she was in pain. I tried to keep my heavy eyelids up, but I was fighting a losing battle. The angel's sweet face was slipping away. Then, everything went black. _Goodbye, my angel._

I woke up to the face of God.

_I must be in heaven. _

I looked frantically around, and saw my angel behind God. I sighed with relief. He looked me over, and I waited patiently to hear his analysis. Then my eyes closed again. I waited.

Abruptly, I was in immense pain. Apparently, God has sent me to the fires of Hell.

I was bewildered– I couldn't make sense of anything, of what was happening. My veins were on fire. I was burning, and I couldn't do anything. I couldn't move, couldn't think.

It was so quick; like grabbing the end of a white-hot poker. I heard screaming, and realized – with surprise – that it was me. I didn't think I had the energy to even scream. My body was _burning_.

Never before could I remember any pain. Not pain like this. I remembered the time I had knocked a pan of boiling hot grease onto me – I remembered the searing like being submerged in acid – remembered screaming in pain. It was nothing to this.

I remembered the grizzly slashing my body open – deep gashes torn through my flesh – and blood spilling out onto the ground. That was nothing. It was like going to sleep after a long day. I would take it again – a hundred times – take it and be grateful.

I wanted to scream, to move and thrash and escape the pain, but I couldn't. It was like a huge weight pressing down on me. I was completely and inescapably paralyzed while I burned.

I couldn't do anything except endure this purgatory. I couldn't think. All I knew was the burning, the _fire. _Every inch of me seared with white hot fire. My veins ran with molten lava, my skin stung with a thousand needles as the flames licked my body. What could be days felt like seconds.

I wanted it to stop.

_Let it stop. Please, just let it stop. Make it stop. _

I tried to think of _anything_ besides the pain, but it was impossible.

It could have been seconds, days, weeks, or years, until eventually; time came to mean something again. For what seemed like an eternity, it went on. The fire burned as bright and hot as ever. My misery continued.

I lay there, in the fires of Hell, and waited.

Time passed. I wasn't aware of how much time, but I could feel time going by – in slow agonizing lurches – and I continued to wait.

The fire continued to burn, I began to develop a new sensitivity to it, to every blistering, burning vein – and I discovered I could think _around _it. I was surprised to realize that I had retained the ability to think. I let my mind wander.

My thoughts were confused. I began to think more clearly every passing moment; thoughts and words instead of feelings and emotions. It was then I realized something was changing. I didn't know what, I hadn't gone far enough to figure it out, but something –besides being able to think again – was changing. I just continued to wait, and think.

I began to count. It was almost – _almost_ – a distraction from the pain. I counted seconds.

Twelve thousand, one hundred and four seconds later, I felt a change.

I realized I could _feel. _I couldn't move, not yet. But I was aware of my body, which surprised me – _surprise, _an emotion I didn't think I still had – my body _should_ be reduced to charred remnants, a pile of dust. I felt slight pressure against my wrist. No temperature, either that or no difference. The only temperature I knew was _hot. _

Six thousand, seven hundred and sixty three seconds later, another change.

I began to hear. Hearing was something I never expected to do again; it came as a great surprise. I listened, and the first sound was a voice. It could belong only to my angel. It was so beautiful; it almost hurt to hear. It was a single word, it sounded almost of _longing,_ but I couldn't distinguish the word. Then, when the pieces clicked in my head, I realized the angel must be staying with me. I just hoped she didn't have to go through the pain too.

Later, voices sounded again. I couldn't understand what they were saying, but I could hear the emotions beneath the words. It sounded like my angel; though I hated to think of my angel being _angry. _Her voice was low and soft, yet furious. Deadly and beautiful. She sounded like she was arguing, but I couldn't understand the words yet.

I continued to listen, until the words began to make sense, like pieces of a puzzle clicking together.

"What do you want to do, Rosalie?" The voice was soft, and kind. "I can't help him now." A growl sounded, then silence again.

Later, I heard more talking. "How is he?" It was a different voice than I had heard before.

"He's going to be okay. It should be soon . . ." The voice trailed off, and I heard a new sound. Footsteps. They were light, but I could distinguish them as footsteps. Then, a click of a door opening.

I heard sounds constantly then. It helped, the pain was still as prominent as ever – the front of my mind – but now I had distractions from it, though I never came close to forgetting the fire. I counted.

I began to hear more. I could hear a sound like a heartbeat. It couldn't be mine, but I didn't know where the sound was coming from, or why it was so _loud. _Now that I had heard it, I couldn't stop hearing the overbearing, uneven beats. It sounded like a dying heart; it pounded out in a broken, disjointed rhythm. But it was new. It told me that I was still changing. And it gave me something new to count. It was slower, the time moved differently when I counted in beats.

Twenty-one thousand, nine hundred and seventy three heartbeats later came the biggest change yet.

It changed. The pain changed. It was the only thing constant; it came as a shock to me – another emotion I didn't know I still had: _shock. _But it was true, the pain began to slow.

Slowly and surely it began to ebb away. It was still there, but it was as if I were hardening, as if I were becoming immune to the fire.

It was slow, but it was new. I counted seconds again. The pain lessened inch by inch. It faded first from my fingertips and toes.

One thousand and seventeen seconds later:

"It's happening."

The soft voice interrupted my counting; the first voice I had heard in awhile, and by far the sweetest. It was my angel. The same voice I had heard before, but no longer marred by anger. It was like _silk_, no other way to describe the smoothness of the beautiful voice.

Other voices came, but I concentrated solely on that of my angel.

"Soon." She murmured, over and over. If it was to me, I couldn't tell, but I listened to the sound of silk, and continued to count the beats. The pain was still slowing. I felt stronger.

Then, sixty-four thousand, five hundred and two seconds later – the longest time yet by far – came a change I wasn't expecting.

Three things happened together, grew from each other so I didn't know which came first: the heartbeats changed, I was overcome with sound and emotion, and the pain changed.

The slow, steady beats stopped, and starting again at the same time. It took off, sounding like the blades of a helicopter, or the whirring of a hummingbird's wings. It was like one single sustained note. The sound overtook everything else; it drowned out the sound of the angel. Either that or the angel had stopped her murmuring. I was overcome with emotion, a longing to hear the angel's perfect voice. And then, of course, the fire. Since it had started to slow, it had been a constant flame: unbearable and painful, but constant. But now the flames flared up in my chest. The fire disappeared from the rest of my body, all to fuel the most scorching blaze yet.

The fire constricted, and the sound changed again. The beats slowed rapidly, I wouldn't have noticed beyond the fire if the sound hadn't filled my eardrums. Finally, the beats stuttered: once, twice, and then, they stopped.

The heartbeats had stopped, but so had everything else. The pain had stopped. I knew it was slowing. I knew I was changing. I knew _something_ was happening, but I never expected this. The sounds had stopped, the silence pressed down on my eardrums.

For a moment the absence of pain was all I could comprehend.

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Good? Not good? Questions? Comments? Review!

(:


	2. Chapter 2

New chapter! Kind of long paragraphs- lots of description. Emmett is very confused, so it's kind of confusing(: He is waking up right about now.

Please review.

Much loves(:

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"For a moment the absence of pain was all I could comprehend."_

I never thought pain would affect me again. Not after _that. _Not after I had survived hell. Because I had, hadn't I? Wouldn't that be the only explanation for the pain stopping?

In my mind, I thought of it as my punishment being over. Like when I was human; when someone committed a crime, the court would decide how long they would be in jail for. Throughout my life, I was just normal. I wasn't necessarily _bad _in my life, but I certainly wasn't good either.

Since I hadn't been completely "_bad,"_ I hadn't been sentenced to an eternity in Hell.

Just awhile.

But believe me, it was enough. The entire time I felt regret and guilt for every sin I had committed in my lifetime. When I had been punished for all of them, I had been banished from Hell.

That was my theory, at least.

The only snag in my theory was the _now._ I had the past– the sins committed in my lifetime, and my punishment for them in hell. But I didn't know what would happen to me now. I wouldn't go to heaven, would I?

Maybe I would just stay in this sort of limbo. That was my other theory– I had been sent to limbo, the oblivion between heaven and hell.

So, with my two theories, it made no sense for me to feel _pain._ Not again, not anymore. But I wasn't in hell anymore; I couldn't be. This was a completely different pain.

This was burning. Once again, I wonder how I could ever feel anything in that category again. Anything even remotely close paled in comparison to that of the fires I had felt. But I burned on, just in a different way.

The fire was in my throat this time. Only in my throat. It was a dry heat; I felt parched and thirsty. My throat was just so _dry. _The sides of my throat felt cracked and hot; like the hard ground in a desert. I moaned.

I moaned. _Moaned. _Moaning involves moving. I could move. I twitched my fingertip.

Everything about the past few weeks–_Years? Days?-_came back to me in a rush. I remembered the voices. Well, scratch theory number two. I remembered the heartbeats– they were gone. I then realized I was aware of time again–it had been only been 38 seconds since the pain stopped. I remembered my angel. I remember being aware of my body, and now I could _move–_ further proving that I do, in fact, still have a body. I didn't know whether it was time to scratch theory number one yet. But for right now. . .

My eyes flew open.

At first, I was overcome with the lights and colors. There was _so _much to see. Everything came to me in a rush of emotions–mostly confusion–and images.

The most prominent senses were sight, hearing, and smell. I registered everything going on in about 2 and a half seconds.

I could see. Not only that, but I could see_ everything. _From where I was laying, I could see the white tiles of the ceiling, the corner where the ceiling and wall met–also white, and the edge of an open window. But I could see more than just the aspects of the room.

I could see every particle of everything. Every speck of dust– layered on the top of the open window, in between the cracks on the ceiling, floating in the air. I could see where the light touched each speck– the light side and the dark shadow– clear and connected, yet distinct. Where the light came through the window, I saw the spectrum of color–the rainbow, including an extra color I had no name for.

Everything smelled so _different._ Outside, it smelled _fresh. _Moss, pine trees, grass. Something very near smelled amazing– fresh and floral, yet spicy, and sweet at the same time. I didn't look to see what it was– not yet. And the most prominent– sweet scents from the window. Each one different, yet the same. It hurt to smell these– my throat burned painfully. It continued to prickle, dry and hot as ever.

Everything was so _noisy. _I could tell it just rained. I heard a raindrop slid down a leaf, and the _plop _as it hit the ground. The wind blew– it whistled softly. Somewhere, a twig snapped. A squirrel scurried up a tree. Birds chirped. Everywhere, tiny splashes sounded from animals and insects running through puddles.

It sounded like the volume had been turned up. Everything was clearer and harder to ignore. Then– the most prominent sound– voices. Three of them–two men and a woman. All three voices were soft and beautiful– so alike yet so different. The voices were muffled slightly, like there was a barrier between them and me. Then, they stopped.

Everything connected together– I was in a room, in a house. There were other people here– wherever _here_ was. Obviously I wasn't in limbo. Or heaven. Or hell, for that matter. _Still not ruling out theory one though._

I sat up– quickly. Very quickly. It took almost 300 milliseconds to do this– from lying down flat to sitting up rigid. My eyes flicked around the room in the same amount of time, and came to rest to the figure sitting in front of me.

My angel. So beautiful–almost painfully so. My memories of her before seemed clouded and blurry. Sitting in front on me now, she was absolutely radiant–a true angel. Her face was completely stunning. Still the same, but somehow different. More defined, yet softer. There was so much _more_ that I had missed before.

She sat completely still as I studied her.

The same heart-shaped face, the same eyes. The same hair and lips. Yet, before it was so undefined– like I was seeing her features through clouded glass. I hadn't even scratched the surface of her beauty.

Her skin was ivory and perfect. Smooth– no marks or blemishes to take away from the beauty of it.

Her eyes were almost the same as I remembered, except–like everything about her– more beautiful. They were almond shaped, framed by thick black lashes. They were the most unbelievable color– molten topaz; liquid gold. I felt like I could see into them for miles. Under her eyes, there was a slight purple shadow. She looked tired.

Her lips were soft pink– like rosebuds. They looked soft, and they were smooth and perfect–just like her skin.

Her hair fell down around her face in torrents. Her curls were fair– though closer to pure gold then blonde.

She was still unmoving; she sat with her hands folded in her lap and her feet crossed under her chair. She looked strained– like she wanted to move but couldn't. Her eyes were the only part of her that moved. She stared into my eyes–like she was waiting.

I gasped; air flew into my mouth and down my throat. It felt wrong; there was no relief from the action. My lungs didn't want the air, and it felt wrong. Though apparently, I didn't _need_ the air, I liked it.

With the air came taste–a fifth emotion in the 45 seconds since the pain had stopped. I could _taste_ the room around me– the dust in the air, the air itself– stagnant in the room, cooler and lighter from the window. The taste connected with the scents, and I could taste the sweet scents coming from the window.

At this, my throat positively _burned_ dryly. Liquid pooled in my mouth–saliva? It didn't feel like it– but gave no relief from the dry thirst. Most of all, I could feel the slight taste of the angel's sweet and spicy scent. Like a hundred roses, the fresh smell of new rain and an orchard on a hot summer day– the spicy-sweet scent of apples under a hot sun.

It took less than a second to catalog all of this in my mind. Though the angel in front of me was the most important, everything else automatically registered. A thousand thoughts, emotions, feelings, sights, scents, and sounds all at once. I was able to recognize and register several things simultaneously.

At the exact moment the angel moved– breathed, slowly and carefully– a muffled voice sounded from the door. The voices I heard earlier were from behind the door, I realized. It sounded different now– it was only one. I heard breathing, and whoever it was, was alone. It seemed the other two were downstairs.

It was the same voice I'd heard–deep and powerful, yet right now, it was soft and gentle. "Rosalie?"

The angel moved again– her head flicked towards the door. I liked this, and I didn't at the same time. I'd had the angel's face in my mind, and it stayed there when she turned–like when you look at a light and close your eyes. I felt empty; I wanted to see her face.

But it gave me something to think about. The angel's name. Rosalie. It was beautiful; it fit perfectly. _My angel, Rosalie. _

"Come in, Carlisle."

Her voice fit her exactly. I remembered it vaguely, but like my sight, it was clearer now. Before, it was like listening with earmuffs on. Now, I could hear every vibration in every syllable. Her voice was positively musical, like she was singing without trying. It was so soft and smooth– like silk.

Half a second later, the door opened. The movement blew air across my face, and with it, a new scent. The scent of cinnamon, moss, mangos, and hyacinth mixed with the roses and apples in perfect harmony.

It stands to reason that if my angel is here, God can't be far behind. My reasoning played out as the man I'd come to represent as God stepped through the door. I had realized that this was probably not the case, but I wasn't ruling it out quite yet. I had no other theories.

He looked like Rosalie did– the same, yet different. He had the same beauty and grace, but it was different with him. He had fair hair– lighter than Rosalie's. He was tall, medium build, and he held an air of power about him. He didn't look old, but I could tell Rosalie respected him. They had the same features– pale, ivory skin, amber eyes, and purple shadows under them.

Rosalie looked away from him and back at me. Her eyes were wary, concerned. She still looked as if she were waiting for something. I cocked my head to the side, confused by her expression.

My throat prickled. The sweet scent coming from the window wasn't helping. It made my throat burn dryly.

The man looked at me warily– his expression matched Rosalie's. "Hello. My name is Carlisle Cullen. Are you okay?" His voice sounded like hers too. Soft, and musical, though his voice was closer to velvet than silk.

I nodded. I didn't trust my voice. I didn't know who this man was, or what he wanted. I didn't know if I were even able to speak, not with my throat so dry.

"And your name is Emmett McCarty?" How did he know that? I frowned, but nodded again. "Well, Emmett, I think we owe you an explanation." he gestured to Rosalie. She averted my gaze– she looked guilty.

"What am I?" I demanded. I had another theory– I wasn't really Emmett McCarty anymore. I didn't know how, or what he had done, but I felt different. Not only that my senses were a thousand times that of before, but I felt _different. _

The man– Carlisle– looked at Rosalie. I followed his gaze to her. She stood up and came closer to me. "Emmett?" she said softly, with her beautiful musical voice. I thrilled at the word; I liked the way she said my name.

"I know this might be hard for you to understand yet–and I'm so sorry," she said softly, looking guilty again. She did this? I waited for her to continue, "But you're a vampire."

She stopped. A vampire? There's a new theory. It would explain the difference I felt. I felt graceful, strong, and powerful. Not to mention my heightened senses. I waited again.

"Let me explain." Carlisle said softly. "You were dying." That I knew. That made sense. I remembered the grizzly bear– the way I felt my life slipping away.

"Rosalie found you when you were almost dead. She didn't know what else to do to save your life, so she brought you back here." I looked at Rosalie. She looked down, not meeting my gaze. "We are vampires," Carlisle continued, gesturing to Rosalie and himself, "and I had the power to save you. She asked me to, and I did. I made you one of us."

I considered this for a moment. It sounded ridiculous, of course, but it fit. I tried to think of any other explanation of my whereabouts and the way I felt. I compared it to my theory of dying and going to hell. Both made sense for the first part. But if I had gone to hell, and _come back_, where am I? And who are these people? The first seemed to fit better. So what if I _am_ a vampire?

If this man, and Rosalie, my angel, are vampires, how bad can it be?

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Good? Not good? Questions? Comments? Review!

(:


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